The Birth of Revolution
by Aderyn
Summary: A soldier's perspective of the fall of a female Revan. Oneshot.


The sky was dark with the threat of rain. Wind whistled through the nearby trees, carrying away the voices of the thousands of people behind him. The chill air cut through his clothing, causing him to shiver uncontrollably, but he didn't care. They were finally going to see her, to meet her, and no amount discomfort could send any of the soldiers present from their place amongst the throng.

His heart was beating rapidly with anticipation. It did not matter that he had been waiting here for hours while the day drew to a close, cold and hungry but unwilling to leave, lest he loose his place so close to the front. He wanted only to be near her, to see her move and to hear her speak. _She_ was a hero: the savior of the Republic. He wished fervently that he would be granted the honor of shaking her hand.

He watched as a tall man arrived first on the stage, one of the tallest that he had ever seen. He was bald, with pale skin marred only by the thick purple tattoos that cut across his skull. His clothing was of a severe cut, dark browns and blacks that clung tightly to his heavily muscled body. There was a lightsaber hanging from his belt, and the man watching knew him instantly. Once that man arrived, _she_ would not be far behind.

On stage, the man made quick check of the security surrounding the platform before moving to stand beside the door from which he had come. With military precision, he placed himself at its side, snapping his heels together smartly. He motioned once with his hand and someone emerged from the dark curtain that had concealed the entrance.

There, on the stage before him, was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She wasn't beautiful in the way most young women are beautiful. She didn't have soft, warm eyes or rosy cheeks. She certainly didn't look sweet or shy. This woman was exquisite in the way that a statue was, her features perfectly refined as if by an artist. Her beauty was harsh and aristocratic. She had the lasting perfection of a woman whose looks would stand the test of time. Her bearing was proud, even haughty, and she stood taller than almost every other person present, men and women alike. As far as he could tell, the only person whose height surpassed hers was the stern-faced man standing behind her.

Her appearance was foreign to him, for although she, too, was a human, she was from another world. The woman had an olive complexion, as if her skin had been darkened by prolonged exposure to a star. Her hair was so dark as to be almost black and was confined in a thick plait that trailed down her back nearly to her waist.

Her clothing was much like the clothing of a Jedi not garbed in their typical outer robe. There were several stark differences, however, between her attire and that of a Jedi Knight. For one, her clothing was almost entirely black, mixed with a few dark browns and grays that blended well with the tone of her skin. Her arms were bared, which was unusual on this world for a woman. The missing sleeves revealed dark, slender arms marked with lean muscle and sinew. He could only assume that the rest of her body would look the same. She wore boots to her knees and there was a lightsaber literally strapped to her hip by a thick black belt. From his previous experiences with Jedi, he knew that this particular weapon would have two blades.

The woman's fierce brown eyes scanned the crowd and he found himself wishing that she would look upon him. He was drawn to her in a way that he could not explain, nor would he care to. The sheer power emanating from her was palpable even to a man with no Force-sensitivity whatsoever. His awe was absolute. She cut an intimidating figure, although it was one that was still so inspiring that he actually felt faint with admiration.

"Friends," she greeted, the word somehow soft and yet loud enough to be heard all the way at the back of the massive crowd. Her voice was clear and feminine, a sound he had not anticipated. It was a pleasant sound, almost musical, and he shut his eyes for a moment to savor it.

It struck him suddenly just how young this woman was. She was barely twenty-two years old, if rumors were to be believed, and the man behind her was no less youthful. It appeared that age had no bearing on talent. This pair had won the Mandalorian Wars.

When she began to speak, he did not hear her words. Her voice was stirring and passionate, her meaning made clear by tones rather than the actual words that she said. She had the gift of oratory, the power of a leader. He knew the general context of her message as if she were projecting it not only from her mouth, but also from her soul. She was speaking of the betrayal of the Jedi Order when they left the Republic to rot while the Mandalorians slaughtered its people.

She paced across the stage, motioning slightly with her hands and turning every so often to look into the faces of her listeners. She moved with an unconscious grace, her motions so lithe and confident that it sometimes didn't even look as if she were moving at all.

She spoke for the better part of two hours to an audience who barely dared to breathe they were so caught up in her presentation. They ignored the descending darkness and the frightening cold that enveloped them. Even the drizzling rain that began to fall could not distract them. Although he was loathe to look away from her, he did happen to glance at his fellow soldiers once during her speech. The faces of those around him were rapt with fascination. Many of them had eyes filled with a fanatical devotion to the woman on the stage and to her ideals.

"I ask you now: Will you follow me, or will you remain loyal to the stagnant beast that is the Republic?" They were the first words that he had actually heard in a very long time. They resonated through the clearing with all the power of an explosion.

After a moment of stunned silence, the crowd roared its approval.

Her answering grin made him weak in the knees. He knew at once that he was trembling. He needed a weapon of some sort- a sword or a blaster. He needed something with which to attack the Republic. Did she mean now? He was ready. He would assault the Jedi Temple itself if she said the word.

Surprisingly, a dissenter emerged from the crowd and leapt upon the stage. The audience raged forward at once, as if to tear him to pieces for daring to doubt her words. She held them back with one cutting gesture. She bowed to him slightly, lowering her head in an age-old Jedi greeting. His body language spoke volumes. He was filled with righteous anger and he was clearly quite upset, but he was also very, very afraid. _She_ was untouchable, her arms relaxed and her posture cool and collected.

The man stood a few inches shorter than her, his close-cropped blonde hair barely reaching the level of her eyes. His features were classically handsome and, although he was clearly older than her, his body still carried the power of youth.

"Master," she said, her quiet voice clearly audible in the absolute silence the man's arrival had wrought. Her tall, scarred companion stepped to her side. She held her palm up and he froze instantly. "Why have you come?"

"I cannot let this continue. Come back to the Council. Your actions betray our Code," the man replied with certainty.

The woman's chin rose sharply and she stared contemptuously down her nose at the man who she had called Master. "Compared to the duplicity of the Jedi, my own is shallow indeed."

"What treachery have we committed?" he asked, his voice holding a hint of challenge.

"Your guilt lies not in what you have done, but in what you have not," she responded evenly.

"Remember to whom you are speaking. I fought by your side," the man pointed out. Many in the crowd turned away from the woman to stare at him. "What you are doing now is inherently wrong, as you well know. The galaxy is in need of stability, not a revolution."

"I disagree. It is my belief that-"

"Listen to yourself!" he interrupted. "You still speak as if-"

But he could not finish. She smoothly drowned him out with only the power of her voice. "I have listened. I've listened to Jedi lies for far too long. It has taken me much longer than I care to admit to realize that your touted Jedi wisdom is nothing more than a belief in your own infallibility. You are much like the Republic you serve: rendered immobile by customs and traditions while corruption rots you from the inside out."

"Then you no longer count yourself among our number?"

"No. I am a Jedi no more."

"You have fallen to the dark side," he accused.

"I have done nothing of the kind. I have merely realized that many of the truths that I have always held near to me are, in fact, fallacies. Some might call it the enlightenment that you have always told me that I would achieve."

The man reached to his belt and drew a single-hilt lightsaber. The blue blade he ignited shone brightly against the darkening sky. The soldier in the crowd, watching the woman on stage, felt an irrational urge to leap to her defense. "This will not continue," he said, his tone one of regret.

"I do not wish to fight you, Master," she told him, refusing to pull her own blade.

"I can't let you continue down this path. Submit to me, or we must do battle," he responded, taking what seemed to be a menacing step towards her.

The man in the audience was trying to keep his impulse to protect the woman under control, much as the tattooed man behind her was doing. The soldier in the crowd could actually see the woman's companion trembling, his hand on his lightsaber.

"Master, please return to the Council. I don't want to hurt you."

"The Force will protect me," the Jedi told her.

"One does not have to be a Jedi to wield the Force," the woman responded. With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes for a moment. Thousands of pairs of eyes focused upon her, willing her to pull her blade.

In the silence, her opponent shifted uncomfortably, suddenly becoming conscious of the enormous odds against which he chose to contend. He glanced once out at the crowd. The soldier in the audience could actually see some of his confidence fade.

The woman's dark eyes opened and she lifted her lightsaber from its position on her hip with deliberate slowness. She turned once again to gaze at her master. "Are you certain that this is what you want?"

The Jedi took another step towards her. "I do not wish it, but it must be so."

The woman gave the man a faint, melancholy smile. "Forgive me, Master. It was not my desire to bring you harm." She lit her lightsaber and leapt over him, forcing him to spin to meet her. She was already crouched in a deceptively simple combat stance.

He lunged at her and she stepped easily out of his way. For all of her height and apparent strength, it looked like her battle style was one of speed and agility rather than brute force. He turned around to look back at her. "You've changed," he said, carefully retreating a few paces to reevaluate the situation.

"The War changed me," she responded. With a speed only a Jedi could achieve, she stepped forward and struck at him with each of her blades in a rapid whirling pattern. He barely managed to parry her blows. He jumped back and raised his hand to attempt to use some sort of Force power on her, but a glowing green nimbus surrounded her when the energy landed and deflected it.

The woman raised her hand as well, but her blow landed, temporarily knocking the man off of his feet. She did not push her advantage. She waited patiently while he rose. "Honor?" he asked.

"If I must fight you, I will be certain that my win may not be questioned by the rules of what is fair and what is not," she replied. He surged forward suddenly and rained a series of powerful blows at her midsection. She caught them with increasing difficulty until she was finally forced to take a step back.

He moved forward the same distance, altering his aim to swing directly at her chest. The soldier thought for a moment that the blow would certainly land, sheering her in half. Instead, she caught his blade only a hairsbreadth from her torso, her expression grim. They hovered there for a second, looking into one another's eyes.

She threw him back suddenly with surprising force. He landed on his feet a few steps away, looking slightly dazed from his impact with the ground. She shot towards him, her lightsaber a nothing more than a spinning blur. He raised his own to block her blows, but finally it was too much. He missed once and grimaced immediately, expecting her lightsaber to land a devastating death strike, but the blade was gone.

Her fiery gaze met his and she drew back and kicked him hard in the chest, throwing him to the ground and sending his lightsaber flying. He started to rise and she kicked him again, another solid blow that sent him sliding across the stage. This time, she waited as he rose. He lurched towards her and she punched him in the chest and the stomach. He started to raise his fists to defend himself, but she caught his arms and hooked her legs around his, knocking him down again.

He did not rise and she stepped forward, raising her palm and freezing him in place. She lifted one boot and settled it on his breastbone. "I will show you the mercy you would not show me. Crawl back to the Council, Master. Tell them of what happened here today. I'm sure that they will find the story of your defeat absolutely enthralling."

She lowered her hand and his body went limp. She flicked her wrist with apparent negligence and he rose several feet in the air. He glanced over at her, the worry evident on his face. She drew his lightsaber to her and smashed it in her grasp before sending the remaining pieces into the air with him.

The soldier watched as the man drifted to the edge of the crowd and dropped unceremoniously to the ground. The woman turned back to her tall companion and he smiled and gently rested his palm on her shoulder. Something passed between them, although he did not know what, and she smiled back at him, almost shy under his approving gaze.

Several seconds passed before she faced the crowd once again. "The Jedi are no longer the power that they once were. The Republic they support is in tatters. Who will join me to reform the galaxy? Who is ready to eradicate the corruption that cripples us?"

The crowd, roused from its silence by her fervent words and militant posture, cheered wildly.

She scanned the crowd, a feral grin spreading across her face. Her eyes landed on the soldier and she searched his face. He grew hot and then cold under her scrutiny. He wished to run away from and dash into her arms simultaneously. Someone who could defeat a Jedi Master in single combat was certainly powerful enough to destroy him... and yet she had shown the Master mercy.

After a moment, he smiled at her, and she approached him. She extended her hand to him from her place at the edge of the stage and he took it without thought. She pulled him up beside her as if he weighed nothing at all. From the way he felt, that might as well have been true. He fell to his knees at her feet immediately. He kept his eyes trained on her boots, waiting for some signal that he was worthy to look into her eyes.

"Will you look at me?" she asked, and although it had only been a question, she spoke the words with all the authority of a command.

His heart nearly skipped a beat. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to turn his eyes up and meet her gaze. His breath caught in his throat as he looked upon the face of his savior. She smiled at him, a wry twisting of the lips that was slightly predatory. Although he was mildly frightened, he found that he could not look away.

"You are brave," she murmured, caressing the side of his face with her lean fingers. He leaned into her touch involuntarily, craving her touch as an animal craves the touch of his master. He was embarrassed by his own show of servitude, but he felt empowered by her acceptance of it. She chuckled and glanced back at her companion. "So willing," she observed to him.

When she met her new servant's eyes again, he knew what he would do. He was hers, body and soul, at only a touch, to do with what she would. It did not matter that he was betraying all that he had ever known. The Republic, the Jedi, his wife, his son, the rest of his family, and his friends: they were no longer of any consequence. All that mattered was _her_.

He knew that his loyalty to her would cost him his life, and even with that certainty resounding within his heart and mind, he could not bring himself to care. He would do anything that she asked, the rest of the galaxy be damned.


End file.
